StaticDynamic
by Sparkling By Moonlight
Summary: The more things change, the more they stay the same. A series of ObiWanAnakin fragments. Slash, AU oneshot. I don't really get this rating thing. Have I got it right?


Right. I'm at present serving as my own beta, so any and all mistakes are my fault, and are there despite my best efforts. One does one's poor best.

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to be able to (truthfully) claim otherwise, Star Wars and any associated characters and references do not belong to me.

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Static/Dynamic

Obi-Wan hums cheerfully to himself as he ladles pancake batter into a pan and sprinkles cinnamon over the frothy mass. He hears a loud yawn from Anakin's bedroom, and smiles as Anakin pads into the kitchen in his too-short sleep pants (has he grown again?) and smiles sleepily at Obi-Wan – or more accurately, at the quickly-developing pancake. 'Good morning, Anakin,' he says, ruffling the boy's hair fondly. 'Breakfast?'

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Anakin hears a sharp cry from the kitchen, and is in the room, panting, before it registers that he _did_ actually move that fast. Obi-Wan looks sheepishly at him, covered in what looks like half of Coruscant's supply of flour, the fallen tin rolling about on the floor, further spreading flour all over the room. 'Whoops,' he offers weakly, a slight smile quirking his lips. Anakin grins, and tries not to feel silly about his sudden burst of worry. And guilty: because, mixed up with all the sheepishness and the silliness and the relief, there is a dawning realisation of how adorable Obi-Wan looks on the rare occasion that he's embarrassed. Anakin knows perfectly well that he is not supposed to be harbouring such feelings.

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Obi-Wan reaches out and tweaks Anakin's blanket gently into place. The injury isn't serious; he shouldn't be worried. He brushes a shaking hand over Anakin's pale forehead, noting the shallow breathing, the unnatural stillness of that normally vibrant body. He sighs and rests his forehead against his hand, reaching out with the other one to twine his fingers in Anakin's limp ones. 'Get better, Anakin,' he whispers. 'I don't function without you.'

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The first time they kiss, it is shivery and warm, and scary, because the bottom falls out of Anakin's stomach, and Obi-Wan's hair is _so _soft, his mouth is so warm, and _Sith, _he's moaning against Anakin's lips, and…and it's over too soon, and they are suddenly on opposite sides of the couch and studiously avoiding each other's eyes. Anakin tries to surreptitiously wipe his hand across his mouth, trying to help his body forget the amazing taste of – no, of nothing, because of course they are going to pretend nothing has happened. They have to.

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Sometimes in his sleep Anakin calls for him. Obi-Wan knows he does, because the sound of that voice never escapes him, and that voice calling his name…quivering with tears, shaky with longing, and it is all Obi-Wan can do not to rush into Anakin's room and scoop the boy into his arms, hold him close, and soothe it all away…but he is not a boy anymore, no longer his Padawan, and there are other things to be considered. Obi-Wan knows that he has made a wise decision, and he tries to pretend, the next morning, that he has _not _lain awake the whole night regretting it.

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When Obi-Wan is away on solo missions, Anakin steals into his bedroom, to curl up in Obi-Wan's bed among Obi-Wan's pillows, and just _breathe_, wrapping himself in the almost sacred scent of his Master. It makes him feel safe, and warm, and _so _comfortable…. He never dares to fall asleep there, afraid of Obi-Wan coming home early and finding Anakin in his bed – afraid of what Obi-Wan will do, and ashamed of what he wants Obi-Wan to do.

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Obi-Wan lets himself noiselessly into his quarters, padding silently across the living area. He stops when he sees the long, lean body, draped in sleeping, careless grace over the couch. It has been a long, gruelling lonely mission, and when he sees Anakin, the waves of warmth and…and _affection_ that wash over him are so overpowering that he has to close his eyes against the tears.

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Anakin walks out of his bedroom to find that Obi-Wan is back from his latest mission. He is about to offer a non-committal greeting, when he sees his Master lurch alarmingly on his feet, barely able to keep his balance. He cannot help but fly to Obi-Wan's side, steadying him with an arm around his shoulders. His murmurs of comfort gasp to a halt when Obi-Wan turns his face into Anakin's shoulder and whispers, 'I don't want to fight this anymore, Anakin…' Anakin swallows and closes his eyes, hesitating only as long as it takes to confirm that this is really happening, and then tilts Obi-Wan's face up to his own, moving his other arm to Obi-Wan's waist for support, because Obi-Wan has to be really tired to have let this happen.

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Obi-Wan wakes up in a tangle of sheets and limbs, soft and warm and a little sweaty, with gooseflesh rising on the parts of his body that the sheets do not cover - which is mostly because Anakin has wrapped said sheets around himself, like a cocoon. Obi-Wan shakes his head and sets about extricating his lover (he rolls that word around in his head, savouring the sound, the feel of it) from his self-inflicted bonds, smiling a little when Anakin evidently decides that he would so much rather wrap himself in Obi-Wan than the sheets.

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Anakin wakes up to the gentle sounds of Obi-Wan being quiet in the kitchen. Even as the anticipation of simply seeing Obi-Wan again hums through him, he stays in bed a little longer, glorying in this new-found right to breathe in that scent, that is sandalwood, and cocoa, and so inherently Obi-Wan. After one last blissful, lingering breath, he finds a pair of sleep pants and trots into the kitchen, pattering up to Obi-Wan and dropping a kiss on his bare shoulder. Obi-Wan turns to regard him with those spectacular cerulean eyes that are like nothing else that Anakin has ever seen. And those eyes are crinkling up at the corners in a warm smile. 'Good morning,' he says cheerfully. 'Breakfast?'

_-fin-_

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Just a few clarifications: yes, the title is my idea of a condensation of the quote in the summary; I can't eat pancakes without cinnamon sprinkled on top; I am heavily inspired by XtinethePirate (all hail); and I have trouble, serious trouble, with short sentences. 

I'd love reviews, because this is my first ObiAni fic and I want to know what people think.

And because I'm a poor deluded fangirl who just wants to be wuved. (Makes pitiful, pleading eyes a la Puss In Boots from Shrek 2.)


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